Just a Fling
by Maybe an HEA Contest
Summary: He's young, he's hot, he wants me. I need a rebound, feel good times, just a summer fling, no strings attached. I got it all under control…


The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

With shaky knees I exit the bathroom. This shit is not happening to me. Not me, Miss Careful, Miss Worst-case-scenario, Miss Prepared-for-all-possibilities _._

I round the corner and am confronted by two expectant faces, with big fat question marks flashing in their eyes.

"So?" Rosaria practically screams

"What is it?" Angelina whisper-yells in my direction.

Wordlessly, I hand the stick to Rose and then sit down with a thud on a kitchen chair before I take another swig of the beer sitting in front of me—the beer I started drinking earlier because I needed to be able to pee on that godforsaken stick … two sticks actually, for accuracy.

Rose checks it then looks at me like she's not sure what her reaction should be.

Her eyes dart over to Lina, who wiggles in her seat. Usually, she's the calm and reasonable in our group.

We stare at each other for a while before squealing at the same time and falling into a group hug, jumping around like silly kindergarteners after being released onto the playground after a morning indoors.

"We'll be aunties!" Lina finally finds her voice and screams at the top of her lungs.

I'm jumping around in my mini kitchen with my two best friends like my ass is on fire, but I feel like I'm in trance. An out-of-body experience must feel exactly like this.

I am pregnant.

Thirty-fucking-four years old and I got knocked-the-fuck-up!

He was supposed to be a rebound, a summer fling. Just some fun. If there was one thing I never wanted, it was to end up as a single mother. Raising a kid on my own? Me? No way!

I need something stronger than beer, but shit! I have to be careful and responsible now.

I should, shouldn't I?

Will I become a mother, or will I become one of those women who have to make _that_ decision and suffer from it for the rest of my life?

This is huge. This is incredible. This was not planned.

While the girls babble about who will do what as an aunt or godmother or whatever they want to be for this … baby … my mind goes back to how I met him.

Edward, Eddie, Eduardo. The father of my child. Oh my God … just the sound of it. _My_ _child_.

Eddie … This cute, young, sexy mofo who talked me into going out with him although I thought he was too young, but he was relentless.

The 4th of July was the best night to work in a bar on a military base, and I expected to make a shit load in tips during my shift at the Officers' Club. My longtime job at the airport was fine, but I needed to earn some extra money with this second job to pay off some debts.

Money issues notwithstanding, working there was fun.

All these guys who came to hang out at the club liked me, and I established a nice regulars' crowd on the two nights I worked there each week. I could play my favorite music during my shifts, and we had lots of good conversations while I served drinks and bar food. Life was easy and my ego got a boost on the regular from all the single soldiers who tried to hit on me . My bar was my fortress from where I could easily flirt and joke and give profound bartender wisdom without actually being in danger of getting involved.

I just had gotten out of a very unpleasant relationship, and all I wanted was to recover, heal, and be at peace with myself.

When Edward entered the bar, I raised my bitch brow right away. He walked in with the cockiness of a man that was well aware of his effect on women; his self-assured swagger and one-sided smirk playing on his lips, gave him away.

I knew that kind and made it a point to stay away. Hot, young, and full of cum. Yep—not my kind of age group, and certainly not the kind of trouble I was looking for.

He sauntered over in my direction, taking off his military hat, combing through his thick hair with his other hand. He ordered a Jack and Coke and took seat right in front of me.

It was my favorite holiday and the place started to really get packed. My girls were supposed to arrive soon so we could all watch the fireworks together.

Edward graced me with his charm from across the bar, and I gave him my professional, for-the-customers smile. After all, flirting and securing my tips was what I was there for, right? Who said I couldn't have some fun with that?

The party was in full swing, the music was pumping, my girls had arrived, and we all were a bit tipsy when Edward tried, again, to strike up a conversation.

"So, your name is Isabella? I heard the other guys calling you earlier. I'm Edward." He tried to dazzle me with furrowed eyebrows and this look from under his lashes, doing the James Dean on me.

"Yes, but my regulars call me Bella." I gave him my nicest wink and kept on serving other people. After all, I was busy as hell and the other girls working with me were running in circles as well. So, no time for long pick up lines. As hot as those lips articulating them might have been.

Next time I looked up, Edward was talking animatedly with _my_ girls. They were giggling and gesticulating and obviously enjoying themselves quite a bit. … the heck? I had to smile to myself. They usually weren't that easy to mingle with guys around this place, since they both had boyfriends.

No doubt about it, Edward had game.

I kept those drinks coming and made sure everybody was happy. When people began streaming outside to get good seats to watch the fireworks, Edward made his way over to me again. He beamed at me, looking a bit flustered from the excitement and probably the addition of liquid courage. "Hey, Bella! The girls got seats for us on the lawn. Wanna grab a drink for yourself? My treat!"

I hesitated for a moment, then I got my beer and an extra bottle for Edward before jumping over the bar to follow him outside. Nice rear there! I had an undisturbed view on his very sexy behind while he led the way. His broad shoulders stretched the hell out of this black t-shirt and his low hung black jeans were doing an excellent job on his butt cheeks. His well-trained arms had just the right amount of muscles to make me weak in the knees. I was a sucker for nice arms. I sighed internally.

Those youngsters do it to me all the damn time. Oh well. What's a beer and some fireworks? _Don't be silly, Bells. Just go with the flow. It's summer, your ego needs a little stroking. He's not Garrett. This could be the perfect rebound. Just a fling._

When we got to where the girls sat on the grass, they both gave me a not so subtle 'you-go-girl' smirk and Rose, who sat to my right staring at the gap Edward had the decency to leave on my left, gave me a poke into my side to make me move closer to him. He gave me a big cheesy grin, obviously noticing the support he was getting from my friends. _What is wrong with them?_ I wasn't a big fan of touchy-feely guys that I didn't know at all, and Rose pressuring me was pretty unusual. I appreciated the display of respect from his side.

I handed Edward one of the beers and while tapping the necks to toast, he gave me a full on eye-to-eye, making me notice his remarkably green, warm, honest eyes and said, "Thank you for joining me." And catching me off guard, he leaned over and gave me a chaste kiss on my cheek.

 _Oh Lord, here we go._ He smelled like a little too much fabric softener, cozy and clean, and all fresh-out-of-the-shower man. Heavenly. Me, not so much. After a shift of running around, serving a demanding crowd, I felt sticky and not-so fresh, but that's the good thing about not taking things seriously. He could take it or leave it; I had nothing to prove.

Edward was a very attractive guy and he knew it. He could've gone for any other girl in the club that night. Those hoochies hanging out at the Officers' Clubs were basically eyefucking him from the moment he stepped through the door. Yet, here he was. Who was I to turn down possible rebound sex with a twenty-something Adonis? He sure couldn't be older than twenty-eight, at the most.

The firecrackers lit the night sky and everybody was doing the oohhs and aahhs. We all turned into little kids, enjoying the colorful performance that was enhanced by our beer-induced buzzes. Life was easy. This felt good—he felt good. He inched closer until our sides were touching. It was pretty damn romantic.

He told me he was stationed here in Napoli at the NSA Naval Base and was an EMT at the US Navy hospital but he wanted to be a doctor one day.

I told him, I worked at Capodichino Airport right around the corner from there, and he told me that he had already seen me a couple of times and had been wondering if I would give him the time of day. _If he only knew._

"So, where're you from in the States?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I'm Italian. Actually, German-Italian."

"But you have no accent at all!"

"Well, once you argue in a foreign language over a long period of time, you get the hang of it."

"Argue? Who would wanna argue with a sweet girl like you?"

"Long story."

He looked at me with a disarming frown and then picked up a stray lock of my curly, crazy hair, twirling it between his delectable fingers. "I don't want to pry, but how come such a remarkable woman is still single?"

I gave him an internal eye roll since I already wondered when that pick up line would make an appearance. "Who said I was single?"

He grinned, showing a perfect row of straight, white teeth that complemented that killer jaw of his. It should be illegal to look that good. A weapons permit should be mandatory with his kind of sex appeal. "I got my sources around here."

"Ooh, your sources. Well, some women are single because they choose to be."

"What a waste, though."

When I turned my head back towards him, our noses almost touched.

"Maybe it'd take a real man to change that?" I replied, softening my insinuation with a sweet-ass smile.

"Is that a challenge?" He masterfully cocked a thick brow at me. "Beautiful and busy and single. I really think we should do something about that status of yours. You definitely need a man to spoil you and rub your feet when you get off of all of your jobs." Edward unleashed a charming, panty-dropping smile, most likely expecting to get the usual reaction out of a girl.

But I felt the need to make things a little more challenging for him, so I got up, smiled, and excused myself.

The fireworks were over and I had to get back to the customers who were heading back into the club. The girls were back to cracking jokes and sharing giggles with Edward; I was truly amused at their obvious acceptance of his company. They were definitely trying to hook me up.

It had gotten really late when Edward waved me over, explaining that he had to work early the next morning and needed to head out. He paid up and then he asked for my phone number.  
"Since you're Italian, what's your last name, Bella?"

"It's _Cigno_. That means swan." I grinned at him.

"If that isn't matching. The beautiful swan - Bellllla." He stretched the L's and made a silly face, bringing up his hands, imitating the Italian way to speak.

Rose was pretty toasted and yelled across the bar, "Damn girl! Give the guy a chance! He's funny as fuck _and_ he's got a nice ass!"

"Thanks, Rosaria, I can handle this." Rolling my eyes, I turned towards him again and said, "Why don't you give me your number, and I'll see if I can give _you_ a call sometime?"

He picked up a napkin from the bar, leaned over to take the pen I had in my breast pocket, and wrote down his full name, number, and his next days off. He leaned over the bar again, put the pen and the napkin back in my breast pocket, giving my boob the slightest tap, gave me an extra-dazzling crooked smile, and before he turned around to leave, said, "I'll be waiting for your call, Bella, Bella Swan." And then he was gone.

The girls were giggling like two stupid idiots—I couldn't help but join in and be silly too.

Coming out of my stupor, I acknowledge my surroundings. I am still in my Nonna's kitchen—well, _my_ kitchen now, since she left the apartment to me when she died. Six months ago, when I first moved back to Napoli, I never thought I'd be sitting here with my girls and a bottle of beer facing this. This isn't is reality.

I'm pregnant.

That is the undeniable fact I have to come to terms with.

Three days after the revelation, I leave my gynecologist's office with a little ultrasound picture of an eight-week-old pea that is supposed to be _my baby_.

I should've known that something wasn't right weeks ago.

My birthday was in September and the girls and my closest circle of friends, which now includes Ben and Mike, had gathered on my terrace to have a BBQ and lots of alcohol. A nice blunt was making the rounds. I took a thorough drag and felt kind of sick right away. The beer didn't taste right, either, and I ended up being the most sober of us all. What kind of birthday girl was I? That wasn't me at all. I thought maybe I was coming down with something. Who knew? Who cared? Now it all makes fucking sense.

Rose agreed to meet me at a nearby _caffetteria_ after my doctor's appointment. Entering my favorite coffee bar in all of Napoli, I'm hit with the almost therapeutic scent of fresh ground coffee. Day or night, the long shiny counter is filled with people sipping their espressos while chatting or reading the newspaper.

The huge glass refrigerator displays a variety of small cakes, sandwiches, and brioches to suit just about every palate. I order myself a cup of tea—instead of my usual espresso, which sucks—and claim a spot at one of the small tables scattered on the sidewalk. While waiting for Rose, I lean back and let the soothing morning sun drift me back again to my summer of bliss.

"Hey. Good morning, my sweets." He nuzzled into my neck from behind, holding me close in his strong, manly arms.

Hesitating to open my eyes, I reveled for another moment in the warmth and the sexy bliss that was waking up with Edward. We'd been together for a couple of weeks, and it was just too good to be true.

We went out together for dinner several times. We danced entire weekends away. His circle of friends, consisting of Ben, James, and a funny dude named Mike, treated me like I was the queen to their king. They didn't have steady girlfriends so I was the only girl hanging out with them all the time.

When I wasn't working at the airport, and whenever he wasn't on duty, Edward was around. If I was working at the bar, he would keep me company until well past closing when the place was deserted and spooky.

Once, Edward booked us a party boat cruise along the Amalfi Coast—can't get any more romantic than that, or so I thought. He would sometimes surprise me at work with dinner, joking and entertaining my colleagues. Edward seemed to always top himself.

He decided to take me to Sorrento, about an hour's drive away, for an impromptu picnic. Our ride along the coast ended at a seaside clearing, where we watched the sun sink into the ocean, while indulging in foods and wine Edward had picked up at the _mercato_. He even went out of his way to get pizza napoletana from my very favorite and historically perfect place _Da Michele_.

We spent every free minute together, joking, eating, dancing, making love, and plain out fucking our brains out, whenever and wherever we could.

We had the time of our lives.

I was so exhausted from all the activities he had planned for us every day that I even committed the ultimate no-no: I fell asleep on him one night after an especially crazy, passionate love session. He never let me live it down. It became another one of our private jokes.

Love had never been more carefree, more fulfilling, or more crazy.

Rosaria calls my name, snapping me out of my walk down memory lane. I open my eyes and see her strut down the street toward me and the _caffetteria_. She approaches me, and I wave at her with the ultrasound picture. She gets all teary and emotional. Taking it with a contemplative look on her face, as if she can actually decipher anything on that black-and-white abstract excuse for a photo in her hand, she sits down opposite of me on one of those pretty iron chairs.

Rose isn't the emotional kind, I have to add. She's the smart ass in our group, always a sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue. A stunning beauty, tall and unusually blond for an Italian girl, she's often the center of attention whenever she walks into a room.

I'm sad, Angelina can't make it today. She's the girlie one out of the three of us. She's helpfulness personified, and her black curly hair, dark brown eyes, and olive skin are so damn pretty. I envy her for that, me being a German-Italian mix, I inherited the fair skin from my German mother and my dark hair and eyes from my Italian dad.

I still feel kind of numb. I can't for the life of me wrap my head around this pregnancy. I haven't told a soul yet—besides the girls, of course—as if telling others, my family, my colleagues … Edward … would make it real. Permanent.

Tears form and run down my cheeks, dropping on the table and some into my cup. Shit. Stupid hormones. I should've known, again, when I was all whiny and my boobs were all achy, but I thought I was getting my period. I am not the emo type. I am the Virgo woman with a firm head on steady shoulders. I am an organizer, a planner, a reliable person. I play it safe and hate changes or surprises. I give great advice to friends in need and have a solution for everything.

Not this time. Not for myself. Not for _this_.

"Bella, snap out of it! It's not the end of the world. We're here for you. You've got great friends and a loving family. They will understand, and we all will help you. You're not alone, chickadee."

"I know. It's not like this is a teenage pregnancy and I will miss school over this. Jeez! I'm a grown woman, but still, cut me some slack. I'm a mess, Rose!"

"When will you tell Edward?"

There it was. The question I was avoiding making a decision about.

"I don't know! He isn't here, is he? Besides, if I don't know what I'm going to do, how will I be able to tell him this? He's thousands of miles away. He's not coming back here, either. This was a summer fling and we broke it off when he left. How can I possibly hit somebody over the head with that kind of news over the phone? How, Rose? He's just about to start college next month. He doesn't have a job. He doesn't want to be an EMT forever, he wants to become a doctor. He sure didn't bargain for this type of responsibility. On the other hand, he knew I wasn't on the pill. He knew it gave me migraines and that's why we used condoms, damn it! " _I have to calm down._

This big motherfucker across the bar is giving me the stink eye. I feel like hitting him in his damn face. I'm not the violent kind, but those fucking hormones are messing with my composure.

Rose follows my gaze and tells the idiot off. "Cazzo stai guardando? Nothing to see here, moron!"

She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. That makes me even more teary. I need to get out of here. "Can we leave, please?" She gets up and puts her arm around my shoulders when I get up.

We walk away, looking as if somebody died on us, all teary eyed and red nosed. What a sight.

"Bells. I have to tell you something."

"What is it, Eddie? What's with the serious face?" I smiled at him. "Eduardo?" The way he looked at me—all big eyes and no words—got me weak in the knees, but not in a good way. An airy sensation crept up my stomach, like on a roller coaster right before the free fall.

He gave me a very stern look then stared down at his hands, fidgeting with the edge of the pillow in his lap. We had just made love and shared some really intimate moments.

Our first night together flashed through my mind while he sat there staring at me, trying to find the right words. Back then, Edward sat in the same spot, we had just had sex for the first time. He was jittery then, too, before telling me that he was 'in like' with me. He didn't want to use the L-word just then, so he said 'in like' instead of in love, and I said, oh how cool! and we were laughing our asses off. Him trying to be all romantic and me being the mood killer. Yes, I'm just smooth like that.

It didn't take long before the forbidden word slipped and then was uttered repeatedly between the two of us. It seemed the summer fling was turning into something else.

So, now we were here and he had to tell me something.

"Edward. Stop it. Just spill, OK?".

"It's not so easy, Bells. You know how I feel about you—about us. You never asked me anything about the future and you had no expectations when we got together. I know that. And we knew this was nothing serious. But, Bells, I got orders. I'm leaving in two weeks."

Punch me in my motherfucking stomach! The blood drained from my face, collapsing into my toes, leaving my head undersupplied and empty. I couldn't form a coherent thought, let alone an answer.

"Bells, say something!"

What could I possibly say to that? He knew that I had excluded any possibilities of a long distance relationship. He knew I wasn't taking this crazy, stupid love to the next level. I just couldn't. He was supposed to be my rebound. So why in the world did this take my breath away? Why did his simple statement of leaving in two weeks have the potential to fucking hurt like a bitch, making my insides curl and my heart hurt with a force I wasn't prepared for?

"Where are you going?"

He looked at me with the saddest expression in his eyes—these deep, gentle eyes that could make love to me by just staring. Edward's answer was a whisper, barely audible. "Overseas, back to Austin, Texas. I will go back to college there. It's where I'm from. My parents live there and my sister." He couldn't look at me anymore. His head hung low and he was playing with the edge of the pillowcase resting on his lap.

"How long have you known about this date?" I demanded. I knew the military didn't work that fast and to get short notice orders wasn't a usual thing over here anyway. I had seen guys come and go on this base. Usually, they stayed for a couple of years unless they were there on temporary duty and there weren't too many surprises about the changes being made. There was no war going on or any DEFCON threat that would justify any drastic changes in plans. I couldn't believe he would smack this in my face two weeks before he was actually leaving Italy.

"Bella, I just couldn't. I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't even want to think about it myself. I just wanted to live every day with you to the fullest and I knew that if I told you, you would have broken up with me, right? You won't be giving this a chance. Would you? Bells, baby. I don't want this to be over. I don't! You hear me?"

I was still in shock. Maybe not so much about the short time we had left together, but the strength and the force of my inner turmoil. The instant feeling of despair and loss and sorrow. The thought of not having his touch every day, his embrace, his smiling face, his humor and his passionate love. It was simply not imaginable. How could this happen so fast? How could this all turn into something so profoundly serious and beautiful and … miserable? I never wanted to feel so desperate again. Not so soon anyway. Wasn't that the purpose of an easy summer fling? No questions, no arguments, no plans, no strings attached. No deep-running emotions, no hurt feelings. Definitely not this.

Stupid, stupid me. Like I had it all under control. Yeah, who was I kidding?

So I did the only thing that was left. I crawled onto the bed, took the pillow from his lap and straddled him. Putting my hands in his hair and my legs around his waist, I held him as tight as I could.

When his arms came around to hold me in a warm and strong embrace, his head resting over my erratically beating heart, it felt better. Him holding me would always make it better, I knew that, then and there. He started shaking in my arms and I felt hot tears soaking through my shirt where his eyes were touching and just like that, we held each other and cried, both knowing that our time together would come to an end soon and that there was no way this carefree, crazy love would get a happy ending.

Flings were not supposed to last. They were meant to soothe and help to get over something else, not _be_ another 'something else'. This was not fair. This was fucked up.

Looking into my Nonna's big antique mirror, I notice some new wrinkles under my eyes. _Thirty-fucking-four, girl, what did you expect?_ The fountain of youth is slowly but surely drying up. Who knows if I would ever have had the chance to have a child if not by accident? Maybe this was all the work of a higher force—an unknown plan to make Bella experience the pleasure of motherhood.

Gee-fucking-thanks.

But really. What if? I mean, after all I had been through with men so far, would I have ever had enough trust in a relationship to get married again and even have kids? No way, José! Was this maybe a bad joke by destiny, wanting me to have a kid not with a husband but anyway?

Life is strange. If I thought about not having this baby, would I ever get pregnant again? Would I ever meet a great guy again, one who would make me feel safe enough to let my guards down and trust enough to really love and be loved? I think I would need some thorough, years-long therapy first. Then I'd be forty-fucking-five and my uterus would be a dried out, shriveled up, useless organ. I'd be a spinster with five cats and only single or widowed friends to come over for coffee or tea and cake and we'd all be fat, turning food into our only physical pleasure besides the occasional, self-induced orgasm, of course. Shit. What an outlook.

Thinking of how fucking beautiful Edward is, this baby would be a killer kid! He, or she, would be the most beautiful baby to ever see the light of day, that's for damn sure. How could I even contemplate the mere possibility of not wanting it? That's insane.

I will tell my mother first. Renate will shit a brick. And Filippo, her soft spoken, gentle man, an Oceanographer, who has been more a father to me than Carlo ever was, what would he say?

Then I will tell Edward. He insisted, when he left, to keep in contact and he kept calling and crying into the damn phone like a kid. He was making this so fucking hard on us. I told him to stop calling. But he didn't want to hear it. So here I am. Preggo. I will tell him, next time he calls. I made up my mind. I will become a mommy for crying out loud!

I dial Rose's number. When she picks up and greets me with the usual _"Che sta succedendo, brutta?"_ ("What's up, ugly?")

I tell her. "I've made up my mind. I will have this baby and you will be a godmother. Lina gets to spoil the shit out of my pea and my mother will become a fucking grandma! How does that sound?"

All I hear now is an unbearable squeal, threatening to give me a shitty tinnitus on top of everything, but I can't keep the edges of my mouth from forming a big, fat, juicy smile.

Coming back home from work, I pass my answering machine and press play to hear my messages while I pour myself a glass of juice-yeah, not the nice alcoholic "grape juice" I usually have to relax after work-and piece by piece, get rid of my uniform. There are five messages. One from my mom, reminding me that we are meeting to go see that movie tomorrow, one from Angelina wanting to elaborate on the news she got from Rosaria after our meeting at the _caffetteria_ and three from Edward.

He does it all the time these days. When I'm not at home, he leaves messages. First he's all smiles and laughs, telling me about his day and how much he wishes I was there with him. Then he gets more serious and whiney about me not being home to talk to him and he is getting more and more frustrated until he hangs up. Just to call again and flat out cry. He misses me and he can't deal without me and begs me to change my mind about us finding ways to be together.

A tear escapes from my own eyes.

He's pathetic in a way. Such a sap, yet I love him. Although I don't act the way he does, I feel the same. I've got to tell him.

But we still face the initial hurdle of simply being together, then of finding a way to live close by or together at all.

When Garrett and I were first married, we had to bridge long periods of separation due to his field trainings and maneuvers hours away from where we lived. He was a Marine at the Marine Corps Base Panzer Kaserne in Böblingen, Germany, and I became one of those military wives. But I was not like most of them. I still had my own life. We lived off post. I had a civilian job and no kids. I refused to let the Military dictate my life. I was never one to be prepared to just pack up and leave to wherever my husband would be put next. It was a constant source of arguments. But when he had an assignment to go to my mom's homeland, I agreed and we left the sweet Italian sunshine for harsh German weather and the Autobahn.

Garrett wanted kids right away. I didn't feel like having kids in such a rocky setting where I'd be alone a lot and never see my husband, and him not being able to be a father, not really.

I had seen it all around me. Those wives raising their kids while their men were away, so often, and over long periods of time … weeks, months. I couldn't see myself being a single mother when I was actually married. I mean, what the heck? Those precious times we finally did get to spend together were more and more burdened by unsolved issues and our initial closeness started to fade, slowly but surely. And then there were other women …

Firing up my computer, I gather all my nerves to email Edward and let him know about him becoming a daddy. Ugh. I won't be calling him. I just can't. Besides, I don't have his phone number. I never wanted it. Whenever he called me there were different numbers on my display. He said it was because he was using calling cards. I didn't know anything about area codes or calling plans or telephone providers. Only people with long distance relationships needed information about calling possibilities and phone tariffs. Not me. Not anymore. Never again.

When I start writing, the messenger pops up on the side of the screen.

E.C.: _Hey Sweets!_

He's online.

I.C.: _Hey!_

I'm frozen.

I thought I could type this out and then see what he says. Now he's online and I get all shaky. How do you start a conversation like that?

E.C.: _I tried to call you earlier. Did you get my messages?_

Oh, yes. I did.

I.C.: _Yes, I did. You need to stop being so emotional. You made me cry, too!_

He puts a line of hearts in the little message box.

Silly dude. I'm smiling. He's typing again.

E.C.: _I'm at the library, picking up some books for my courses. College starts next week!_

College. Exactly. Like you really need to know what I got coming at you. Shit.

But I need to get this over with. Then he can tell me that he wants nothing to do with this mess and that my timing sucks and that he hates me. All that.

 _I.C.: I got to tell you something. Something difficult. Something serious. I just don't know how to start._

He's typing again …

 _E.C.: Just say it, baby. You know you can tell me anything. I love you. I wish I was there to hold you._

Oh lord. I'm about to ruin his life and there he is all sweet and lovey-dovey.

 _I.C.: Are you sitting down?_

 _E.C.: Sure. I'm at the library, remember? Sitting at a terminal. Chatting with my girl._ _3_

Yeah. Go joke a little. He might never be joking with me again after what I got to say.

 _I.C.: I'm pregnant._

Bam.

Pause.

 _E.C.: You're pregnant?_

 _I.C.: Yes. Eight weeks._

Pause again. Nothing happens. I'm waiting. He's still online. Is he counting the weeks?

 _E.C.: Oh my gooooooooooood! I looooooooooooooooooooooooove youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! My sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeets! We're having a babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! They wanna kick me out of the library! I'm being too loud! Let me call you!_

 _Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssseeeee?_

Oh my goodness! He's having a coronary!

 _I.C.: Sure. I'm here._

 _E.C.: You're making me so damn happy, girl! I will call you in a bit! Love you!_

 _E.C.: OK. I love you too._

We're on the phone for hours. He tells me how happy he is and how much he loves me and how we will be this super cool little family. He wants me to think about moving to Austin to be with him. I tell him that he will be in college and that we will have no income if I leave here. I've got insurance. I've got a job to hold me over. I can still work the bar until I show.

He understands, but he wants to see me. He wants to go to all the doctors' appointments, he wants to be a dad.

I'm hesitant to cheer but I feel good. I feel loved and I feel positive. Maybe this could work out after all. Maybe, just maybe, this crazy love will go somewhere, where it's sunny and warm and happy. We agree to find a way to meet soon. Either his way or mine. If only for a week or so. After another long goodbye and promises to talk tomorrow, we hang up.

So, my mom is next in line. I hope she will be cool about it. At least I can deliver a nice fatherly reaction from her maybe soon-to-be son-in-law, along with the shocking realization that she'll soon be a grandma. Maybe that will cushion the blow of her daughter being pregnant in not-so-honorable circumstances.

Miracles happen every day, right?

Renate has an open mind … usually. She is one of my best friends, besides being my mother, and she knows how rough life has been for me the past couple of years.

She met Edward when he was still stationed here. He actually met my entire family: my brother Paolo and his wife, Lea. Edward charmed them all with his humor and open character. He had no barriers in front of family or friends or even my colleagues.

Carlo Cigno not included. I never introduce people to my dad. I never understood how him and Renate could ever fall in love.

They are so different. He's a lawyer. She's a Flower Child.

Ever since he married that wicked witch Vittoria, things have gotten really difficult for the entire family. Vittoria is a jealous, red-headed devil, who resents my mom no matter how over my parents' marriage is—not even after Renate got involved with Filippo. Red Head gave everybody a hard time with her pointed remarks and extravaganza.

All these years later and I still have no clue what my dad sees in her, or why he felt the need to marry her. But that's him. Traditional, old fashioned, and straight. He could never just date a woman, or live with her without tying the knot for good. Idiot.

So him finding out about my pregnancy will be an extra delightful moment in my already tortured life. Lectures, opinions, and judgmental remarks will be a sure thing. No matter how old I am. With him, I'll always feel like a kid. A stupid, untalented, hopeless case. No wonder, I have these problematic relationships with men.

A therapist would have a field day, or more like a field year, with my shit on their couch. Isn't the father-daughter relationship an indicator for a woman's self worth and ability to form healthy relationships? I read that somewhere and I think there is wisdom in that statement. To know it won't keep you from falling into that trap though. Too late for me anyway.

John Mayer wrote a song about it so it must be true.

Three months later and I'm getting off a plane in Dallas, Texas. The heavy, humid air hits me and I revel in its warmth. My little belly is starting to show and here we go. Entering the building, the immigration officer gives me a once-over before waving me to the side, pointing to the door of a shady looking back office. What the heck?

"Ma'am, would you please take a seat and show your passport and ticket?"

Like that's a question I could answer with no.

"How long will you stay here? What's the purpose of your visit in the US?"

"I'm visiting friends. I'll stay for two weeks."

"Are you pregnant, ma'am?"

Say what? Asshole! Like I wanted to give birth to my baby here, where they take an arm and a leg for delivery at the friggin' hospital. No thank you! I have no desire to have my baby in the US of A.

"Yes, I'm pregnant. I will return in two weeks and I will not stay here to have my baby in your country. I have a job and good health insurance where I'm coming from." giving him a big, fake-ass smile.

The officer looks at me with an annoyed, disapproving stare, puts a stamp in my passport and says "Have a nice stay, ma'am."

This shit took over an hour and now I have to fucking run to catch my connecting flight to Austin. Holding my belly in one hand and my cabin trolley in the other, I run to the gate. When I'm finally in my seat on the plane, for the first time since I left home, I give way to giddy anticipation and blissful expectation. It's been three months since I last saw Edward.

He said, he'd take some days off from work so we can spend time together. He joined the Reserves and took a job at a local clinic, working as an EMT. He wants to start college next semester and make some money until then. He said he has a plan. I trust him. He makes me feel confident and safe and taken care of. It seems he has grown a lot over the past weeks. He seems more mature, and in spite of our age gap of about eight years, I feel like somebody finally is in charge and I can let go a bit. Let go of my fears and my worries and just enjoy this little pea growing inside of me.

It is still overwhelming and new and, besides my occasional nausea, I feel really good. I caress my belly and tell him—I believe it will be a boy—that we are about to see Daddy. I start smiling and rest my hands on my belly, close my eyes, and take a nap until we get there.

Walking into the baggage area, I let my gaze wander over the people waiting at the arrivals. Dads waiting on their kids, sisters picking up their brothers, best friends reuniting, and … Edward. He hasn't seen me yet. He looks excited and giddy and his head moves left and right, searching for me, the mother of his child.

My heart is racing now. I feel dizzy and wonder if the baby feels it too. It must. My entire body is on fire. Flashbacks of our last night together and the agony and desperation we felt while saying our goodbyes last time we were at an airport together come like a flood.

Arriving is so much better than parting. I wonder how many more times we will have to be going through those departures before we will reach a level of normalcy and calm. I wonder, if we ever will.

 _Stay optimistic, Bella. Don't panic. Don't make self-fulfilling prophecies._

When I'm about to grab my bag off the baggage belt, a voice beside me startles me.

I missed that voice so damn much.

"Don't you dare pick up this humongous piece of luggage, woman!"

I find myself whirled around and wrapped up in an embrace that tries to make up for all the time apart. I hold on to him and revel in his scent, his warmth and the sound of his strongly thumping heart.

I'm here, I'm with him, I'm home.

He pushes me back by my shoulders to take a long, loving look at me. Then he kneels down, puts both of his hands on my belly, and gives it a kiss. People around us start smiling, obviously enjoying this public display of crazy affection. I put my hands in his hair and try to capture this sacred moment. When he gets up, he grabs my face with both hands and gives me the most passionate and intense kiss I've ever received in my entire life. We get lost in our bubble, not noticing anything or anybody around us. In this moment, it's just me and Edward, and our little pea. Forgotten are the mountains of hurdles that are in our way, forgotten is the finity of our time together. For now, all we need is to be. This feels right. This feels like perfection.

But like all good things, this magic moment comes to an end so we gather our dazed selves and walk out of the airport hand in hand, his other dragging my suitcase, my other covering my belly.

On our short drive to his parents' place, where we will be staying, he tells me how excited his sister and his parents are to finally meet me. That he told them all about us and that they love having me over. He decided to move in with them again to save up some money, so that he can afford the plane ticket to come see me for Christmas. He stops four times on the way, so he can kiss me again and again and cover my face and my neck and my hair with his affection. He makes me giggle, and I'm so happy.

His sister's name is Alice. She is married to a guy named Seth and they have a cute little, five year old son named Embry. We picked him up from preschool since usually Grandma Esme is keeping him in the afternoons.

Edward is the perfect uncle, allowing everything and only playing and cracking jokes. Seeing him with his nephew makes me smile; I can easily imagine him as a daddy. He's caring and sweet, and I start to have faith in this entire circumstance.

When he catches me looking at them jumping around on the couch, he stops and asks "What's behind that pretty forehead of yours, Sweets?"

"Nothing, Uncle. Just picturing you doing stinky diapers. That's all." A big grin covers my face.

"You're having doubts about my daddy qualities? Woman, you're in for a treat! See this little man here?" He points at Embry, "his butt was my training field! I'm baby-doodoo proof!" Edward starts laughing and then tackles his nephew, tickling him until they're both out of breath.

Good times. Memories in the making.

The phone rings. His mother answers. After a short exchange, Esme holds the phone out to Edward. He takes over and as soon as it touches his ear his face freezes. He takes the call to the next room.

I wonder who gets this weird reaction out of him. His usual easy going demeanor suddenly morphed into an expression I have never seen on him before. My stomach does funny things. I recognize those things. Garrett made me feel the same way.

Something is definitely wrong.

When he comes back out of the room, he avoids my eyes. His mother gives a reassuring smile to me and a questioning look to her son. He doesn't explain. "Wanna order some pizza, Sweets? Mom? I could eat a horse right now!" And just like this, he is back at being his usual self. The knots in my stomach though, they remain. My head is quarreling with my gut and my head wins. Ignoring my gut feeling, I let it slide, hoping he'll come around eventually.

The pizza gets delivered, and I get acquainted with the doubtful pleasure of non-alcoholic beer and American pizza. For me, there just isn't a way around pizza with beer. They belong together like Romeo and Juliet, like the moon and the stars, like Edward and me. Pizza without the beer is only a meal. Together, it is a concert, a composition. They are good for each other. They complement each other. They bring out the best in each other.

This first day ends and we don't bring up the strange phone call. I push it all the way back to the depths of my consciousness, not wanting to spoil any minute of the time we have together.

Edward gently scoots in between my legs when we finally are alone is his childhood bedroom, laying on his king sized bed, our clothes scattered all over the room; There is no time for trivial things in the face of urgency and need and desire. He caresses my face, my belly, while peppering me with kisses, giving me goose bumps. He tells me how much he missed me and how much he desires me and how beautiful I am, becoming a mom.

He appreciates my noticeably larger breasts, and his dedication gets me so horny I could climb walls. I'm so sensitive around my nipples and get wet instantly. We kiss deeply, desperately, putting all of those unspoken words into it. Our hands roam each other's bodies with reverence and the realization of the limitations we are facing.

Edward reaches down to where I want him the most and circles his finger around my swollen clit. I feel like a volcano, ready to burst, but I want to savor this moment of intimacy. I want to memorize the intensity of this feeling I never had before. Those hormones are not only good for being all emotional. It's like everything is more intense, more arousing, just so much more. I want to feel him on me, around me, and most of all, in me.

I let him know how ready I am to reunite in so many more ways than one.

He feels it too. Right before he enters, he jokes, "Hey baby, Daddy's coming to see you now. Don't be scared." We giggle like crazy. Then he slides into me in one slow but strong motion. Stopping, he looks into my eyes, telling me to keep them open because he wants to see me and he wants me to see him. We get lost in this moment and in each other.

Love is all around us, in us. I never want to be without him again, ever. He tells me that and when he keeps circling my clit while he tries to keep going slow.

I can't hold it back any longer and come with a power I didn't expect. It is life altering. It is addictive. I want to do it again and again. When I slowly come down from my high, Edward picks up the pace and pushes into me hard and full of emotions. He tells me how extremely good I feel and how he never wants us to be apart again. Lifting my thigh to get a better angle, he pushes even further, reaching places that are more than just physical. I've never felt so full and satisfied. I meet him stroke for stroke and push for push, arching my back, until he shudders, his face in an expression of agony fighting pleasure, but he keeps going, riding out his orgasm with force until I'm coming apart again.

We collapse into each others arms, sated and spent.

Exhaustion catches up with us and we fall into a deep, dreamless sleep while holding each other tightly, neither one of us wanting to let go.

When I wake up in the morning Edward is gone. A note on his pillow says: _Be right back. Grabbing breakfast for my babies. xoxox_

While waiting on him to return, I close my eyes again. Pregnancy makes me so damn tired, even in the mornings. That strange phone call pushes its way back into my thoughts and I'm drifting back to last summer, our summer, and the way it all began…

"Hello, beautiful!" a chipper voice greeted me on my phone. Number unknown.

"Who's this?"

"It's Edward."

"Hello, Edward. Who gave you my number?" I wasn't sure if I was OK with him calling without my consent. I would have to kick somebody's ass for doing this without telling me.

"Well, I know this is a bit forward. But I really wanted to see you again and I accidentally ran into Angelina today at the PX. Don't blame her. I forced her to give me your number. Since you didn't even recognize my number just now, I suppose you didn't even save it on your phone, which leads me to believe you had no intention of calling me anytime soon?"

I hesitated to answer. He was right, in a way. I had been having second thoughts. But I found myself flattered he'd go through some effort to find me again.

"Um, you know, I would have maybe called you—some day—just that I was busy working a lot. So now that we got that squared away, what are you up to?"

A melodic laugh was his answer. I could tell he was still smiling when he said, "I was hoping, you'd be going out with me this Friday. I'd like to take you out to the club, dance, and have some fun."

I didn't have much of that lately and I really felt like taking him up on his offer. "OK. What time?"

"Pick you up at eight?"

"Oh, now you want my address too, Slick Rick, huh?"

"That would be convenient. Otherwise we could meet here at the Main Gate and then you can ride with me. Your choice."

Smooth mofo. Well, what the heck. When was the last time a guy had actually been so courteous, offering to pick me up and drive me too. Next thing, he'll open doors for me and pay for my drinks. I guess I had been dating the wrong type of men altogether. I knew this, but it wasn't like I wanted to get married. Not again. I just wanted to be distracted, have some fun, and feel content. No heartbreak, jealousy, or feelings of betrayal.

Easy going relationships with easy going guys who treat me with just the right amount of respect, appreciation and attention to make me feel good. Nothing more, nothing less. Usually, I called the shots, I told them the wheres, whens and hows. So this was new. I felt a bit uncomfortable. At the same time it felt damn good to be courted that way—too good to tell him 'no'.

I exited my house with a smile and a hello. Edward's gorgeous self was holding the door of his car open for me. He chuckled, closed the door and walked around to the driver's side, holding eye contact with me the entire time. He wore a short sleeved, well fitting black t-shirt that showed off his muscular arms, giving me a lady boner right away. "Riley" was scrawled on his left arm in an artistic script.

I wondered what that was all about, and since he didn't hide it from me at all, I figured I'd just ask him.

He turned his head while he started driving and said, "It's my son's name. He lives with his mother. We are divorced."

Surprise! I didn't really care, since this was not going anywhere, but I wondered what other baggage this pretty face had on its back, I didn't have a clue about. I just gave him one of my most beaming smiles and turned up the music.

When we got to the club, the place was packed. I saw many familiar faces and there were hellos and heys and recognizing nods coming from left and right while we made our way to the dance floor. This was the same crowd that hung out at my bar on post.

Edward took my hand and led me down the three steps and onto the dance floor. We started moving against each other to a satisfying, energetic bass line, telling us to bump and grind. And that's what we did. Eddie turned out to be a fantastic dancer. He anticipated my every move and mirrored it, giving me just enough space to do my thang and just enough closeness to make it a steamy experience.

We were sensual and sexual. If that was any indication of how we would match up having sex, it would be a match made in heaven.

All of a sudden, a tall girl with a curvy body and a fierce expression on her face squeezed between the two of us, facing Edward and pressing her behind against me. Her long black hair tickled my face while she gesticulated, moving her head left and right. She was shouting in Edward's face, but I couldn't really hear what she was saying over the loud music. People around us stopped dancing and watched the scene unfolding in front of them.

I couldn't see Edward's face anymore, and I wasn't sure what I had gotten myself into.

Big, strong hands grabbed me by my shoulders and turned me around, trying to get me away from there. I looked up and right into two big brown, gentle eyes. It was Jake, a very nice guy who had tried to ask me out a couple of times, taking my denials very graciously and nonetheless, never stopped being nice and full of admiration towards me.

Jake bent down to scream over the music into my ear, "Let's get out of here before this gets ugly."

I didn't give him any resistance and we went back up to the bar, wondering why I never gave him a chance. Wrong timing maybe? That, or I am just wonderful at making bad choices. He handed me my favorite, G&T, and when we turned around again looking towards the area of commotion, the crowd had started dancing again and Edward and that chick were nowhere to be seen.

Jake told me, her name was Jessica. Someone tapped me on my shoulder. Turning around, I was met with a very friendly female face framed by very curly hair—Gloria. She was a soldier, too, and the funniest chick. She often hung out at my bar and we bonded instantly. She was like, "What the fuck was that all about? Are you here with Eddie?"

I nodded and shrugged my shoulders. Raising my eyebrows I told her, "Yeah, you know, I have no clue. Guys!"

Jake gave me a smile and a wink and his shoulder bumped mine. "Not all guys are like that."

I smiled back apologetically and bumped him in return.

The crowd parted in front of me, and a disheveled and very big-eyed, contrite looking Edward came working his way towards me. I wasn't sure how to react so I didn't say anything. I mean, I had no claim over him. We were just hanging out together and if he had girl problems, they were not mine. He came to a stop right in front of me and Jacob wasn't moving one millimeter. Neither was Gloria. They both acted like my bodyguards, and I was subtly giggling to myself about their stances.

Edward leaned down, not the slightest bit deterred by those two flanking me, and yelled into my ear over the music, "That was an ex of mine. She doesn't understand that we broke up. I'm so sorry this happened!"

I looked at him and just smiled. I didn't comment at all. "Maybe you should make it clearer to the girl if she still thinks she's your girlfriend?"

He looked desperate, and I felt a bit sorry for him. I wanted to believe him, but just when things were about to settle down, Jessica came into the scene again and poked her finger into my chest, painfully so, and told me to leave her boyfriend alone and that she would be waiting outside the club tonight or any other night I would be around to teach me a lesson. Then she turned around, gave Edward a stare down and disappeared into the crowd again.

Dumbfounded, I yelled towards Edward that I had enough and that I was leaving. A short nod towards Jake and Gloria and the three of us left. I didn't have my car since Edward had picked me up. When we reached the parking lot, Jake offered to give me a ride. To the far left of the lot, Jessica was waiting, flanked by her own people, a bunch of girls that were famous for fighting, shooting virtual daggers at me and my friends. I was so glad Jake and Gloria were with me.

Jake slowly walked over to her, put his pointer in her face and said, "Now you listen carefully, Jessica, because I will only say this one time. If you ever lay a finger on that girl, if she ever has as much as a scratch on her, I will come and do what a gentleman usually never does—I will hurt you. She's off limits. And if anybody else harms her, I will come find you. So you better make sure, _nobody_ touches her, bends a single hair on her head, or even stares menacingly in her direction. Am I being clear? Do you understand?"

Jessica was steaming. Her face was red from anger, but she nodded slowly.

Jake then turned around, put his arm on my shoulders, and we walked off. Passing by Edward's car, I noticed a key scratch all the way around the length of the driver's side … it looked fresh.

I wasn't a scared, helpless little girl who couldn't handle herself, but in the face of pure violence and brutality, I found myself having jittery knees and a racing pulse. Some of these girls could really get violent. Cat fights broke out in this kind of clubs quite often—clubs where soldiers hung out, where the music invited people to get close and hook up, where everybody was looking for a good time and getting laid, or nurturing the illusion of finding The One. I wasn't one of them. I was a civilian. I was a part-time bartender. I was peaceful and hated trouble and fights and all things involved. I loved the music. I loved dancing and hanging out with my friends. I was looking for a good time without the static.

Edward seriously needed to get his shit together, and I wasn't willing to be part of it. Was nice knowing him for a second. Yeah, that dude better not call me again. That was it. At least that was what I thought when I closed my eyes that night, before I fell into a restless sleep.

The days are filled with meeting relatives and childhood friends and neighbours. Edward loves to show me off. I love him, loving it.

I drive him to work so I can keep the car to spend time at the mall or nap at home until it's time to spend lunchtime with him at the hospital. I meet his colleagues. I watch him taking care of patients, being a compassionate nurse, a consoling and caring man, no matter if it's a little boy with a broken arm or an adult man almost throwing up on him. He's patient and friendly, taking everyone's names and insurance details and assigning them to the next available doctor. His charisma works on them too. They feel taken care of. I can see it. I can see him being a doctor one day.

Time races and two weeks fly by in the blink of an eye. It is our last evening together before I have to get on a plane in the morning to return home.

My view falls on all the shopping bags we brought back during my stay. We had been shopping for a stroller, baby equipment, and baby clothes. Edward was so hyper and silly while we chose little outfits and the smallest Nikes. He got me clothes that would "grow with me" and a pair of super sweet Nikes, too, matching the baby's. We were having so much fun. Happy times. He wants to bring everything when he comes over for Christmas and New Years, The Y2K. It will be a special New Year's Eve, for more than one reason _._

We're about to head out the front door of his parents' cozy little bungalow to go spend the day in San Antonio when the phone rings. Esme is in the kitchen, busy cooking dinner for her husband. "Eddie! Can you get that for me please?"

"Sure, Mom. Hello, Cullen residence?"

He pauses, giving me a hesitant, cloudy glance. Now it's back, that gut feeling. That ugly, disturbing nausea creeps into my stomach, weakening my legs. Foreboding, unpleasant, and alarming facts unfolding right in front of me.

Edward turns around, excluding me. He leaves me to these feelings of loss, of being left, of coldness, of … Garrett. I can't help wondering if this anxiety is bad for the baby. All these sudden fears have my pulse racing again. I think I'm fainting. Feeling the couch behind my knees, I give in to my weakness, to the distinct knowledge, that things are about to change.

By now, Edward has left the living room and gone outside, sliding and closing the door to the terrace behind him. His body language is tense and angry as he walks around the garden. He's arguing. I just know he's talking to a woman. This is the fight between two people that have something in common. This is important. It reveals a side of Edward I have not seen so far. He's never in a bad mood or stressed or impatient. Now he's all those at once.

I wonder if I know him at all. I do trust him. I trust him with his love for me and the baby but what do I really know about this man? What did I ever really know about Garrett? Long distance relationships suck. They make you happy when you're together and miserable when you're not. They make you blind to every flaw and ignorant about anything and anybody who could disturb the bliss of the short and precious times spent in togetherness. It's an illusion. It's nothing but a well-furnished lie. There is no average day, no normalcy. All there is is a chain of highlights like party illumination, only showing the pretty colorful lights while the grey cable that holds them together is invisible at night. No worries about the trash, the grocery shopping, laundry, socks left beside the bed or toothpaste pressed out of the tube the wrong way. It all pales to the pleasures, the crazy heartbeats, the high of being together after a long, dry, agonizing wait.

Is it worth it? Was it ever? How can you bring a child into this mess? This isn't fair. I feel my curtains close, my walls rising up, and suspicion creeping into my love-induced ignorance. I need to know. I need to know now.

Like I'm on autopilot, I slide open the door to the garden and I rush over to where he's found a spot by a tree, where he deems himself hidden from view. He doesn't see me coming, his back turned towards me. I reach around and grab that phone right out of his hand, a woman's voice clearly speaking angrily on the other end. I feel numb when I hold it to my ear and listen to what she is saying, unaware of a change in recipients of her words. "You will never change, will you? I really thought we'd make it this time, Edward! I thought you meant it when you said we'd try again, press restart and build up our life again! Ed! Edward?"

"Who is this?" I hear my own voice like it is in a far distance, like I'm under water.

"This is Lauren Cullen. Who the fuck are you? His latest fling, I suppose?"

I don't need to know anything else. I drop the phone, searching for a lever, afraid I'm going to lose my balance. Afraid to faint, again. Afraid of having to look him in the eyes and see the confirmation in them, the ugly truth revealed in beautiful green.

Edward is married.

He already belongs to someone else. He's not mine to keep. He's not my loving, caring, reliable partner and father to my child. He's a liar, a cheater, and an illusionist. A serial cheater.

Walking away in a trance-like state, I enter the house and face a devastated Esme, who has no consoling words for me. She looks so helpless, I almost feel sorry for her. She must have known about this. Alice must have known about this. What kind of family is this? A bunch of pretenders and cover ups. I'm disgusted. I want to run out of the house. I want to go home! I'm trapped. I grab the car keys laying by the entrance and run outside to his car. I open the door to enter when I feel hands on my arms, pulling me back, grabbing at my shoulders, swinging me around. "Bella, let me explain! Please!"

I feel like I'm in a bad movie. A movie full of clichés and shallow plots. Next thing would be 'it's not what it looks like.' I want to scream.

I can't bring myself to look at him. My weakness is about to get replaced by anger that is growing into a wave, gaining height and about to crest into a full blown hurricane of rage. Hormones do that to you. I feel like a lioness, a fierce protector of my own pride, my self respect and my child—my helpless baby.

"Bella, look at me! She is lying! We're in the middle of a divorce and there is nothing there between me and her. She just doesn't want to let go! I swear, Bella, sweets! You have to believe me!"

"When did you want to tell me, Edward? When our child is born? When? Why the charade? If you have nothing to hide, you could've just told me." I'm breathing hard. My little pea is moving, feeling my tempest of heartbreaking emotions, my endless despair.

This is too much.

My vision gets blurry and I feel my legs giving out on me. This feels like a déjà vu, Jessica appears in front of my eyes telling me to leave her man alone. I think I'm fainting when a set of strong arms holds me up, engulfing me in a fortress of love I'm not even sure I still want.

He's holding me, carefully, but with determination. He keeps telling me how his wife is still trying to fix their marriage when he already moved on five months ago. He assures me of his love and his devotion to our child. He promises me that he will do everything in his power to make this right. He keeps talking and talking until my pulse calms down and my anger dissipates. He caresses my hair, kisses my temple, and keeps reassuring me with details about their war of roses, their long overdue break up, their divorce.

I want to believe him. I want to be at ease again. I want this nagging gut feeling to leave my system for good. I want Garrett out of my head. His baggage has weighed me down for so long. The inheritance of suspicion and jealousy has taken away my every capability of making healthy judgments and unspoiled observations. I want to believe Edward, my Eddie … Eduardo. I want to be able to see what's real and what's a lie. But how can I? I want to be able to forgive him for lying by omission, for trying to get around it, if only it all is true what he's telling me now.

I hug him back. I let go. I give myself over to the only thing I know right now. I want to feel safe again. I want to feel loved again, exactly the way Edward loves me. My Edward. I look up into the loving assurance gathered in his green depths, giving me a glimpse into his heart. Those eyes, so sincere and full of love, how can it be anything other than true. I can see it. He means it. Now. I take it.

We calmed down, he takes me to San Antonio despite the turn of events. It's still a gorgeous day, and we take a walk on the waterfront, trying to enjoy the scenery, the little restaurants that line up along the river, and the music spilling out of some of the small joints. We take a seat at an Italian place and while waiting on our food, Edward tries to hold my hand over the table, but I'm not ready yet. He wants to take silly pictures of us, tries to make me laugh when I feel nothing like it.

Edward keeps acting like we don't have the problems we are facing on top of everything else we were dealing with before. That's just how he is. He cannot confront, he refuses to let anything come between us. He's stubborn like that.

He won't give up before he makes me smile again. And I do. He brings out all those little inside jokes we gathered during our summer of bliss. Little secrets only the two of us share. He just can't help himself. He can't stand to see my frown, the traces of worry and distrust. He seems to be unable to take situations not involving harmony or humor. He can't even seem to be able to break up relationships. He simply moves on, regardless of the mess left in his wake.

Edward is like a child, unable to inflict hurt. At least not while he's around to witness.

I wonder how often he sees his other son, the one who lives with his first wife, Bree. Lauren was, or still is, his second wife. They don't have any kids. What else is there that he's not sharing with me? How many girls and women has he scarred, how many lives has he altered, changed forever with his beautiful face and that gorgeous body of his, his addictive attention and want, his dreamlike physical love? Are there any others like me? Did they all feel the same love and care before he had enough and moved on to the next highlight, unable to terminate and offer closure to the ones he's left behind? I get sick, thinking about this.

He says it's different with me. He says I'm his 'Forever'. He says he will put all his eggs in one basket with me and give it his all. He wants this family, our family. He wants us to be together forever.

When I wake up in his arms the next morning, during that moment when consciousness is still asleep and one is all feelings and touches and warmth and bliss, right before I remember the previous evening and all the inner turmoil I endured, I'm still bathing in the aftermath of what is make-up-sex with Edward. There is nothing more addictive, nothing more desirable. I cannot imagine a world where this heavenly love making would be removed from my life for good. How cruel it is to have been given this experience only to live without it again.

Edward's stirring beside me, brings me back to my senses. When he scoots closer again to embrace me, holding me so close I think I can't breathe, he whispers in my ear, "I love you, my Bella. I love our baby. Everything will be alright . I promise."

I reply, "I know you mean it. I love you, too." And just like that, the world is back on its axis. Ignorance is bliss, and I take it for now.

When we get to the airport a few hours later with my bags packed and ready to take on this journey back into my own life, Edward holds my hand. We stand right before the gate where our ways will have to part. There are only moments left for us to say what still needs to be said, giving looks that should bring back trust and easiness, touches that have to hold over until next time we will get to feel each other again.

With one last searing kiss, Edward tries to tell me all that he cannot put into words, and I suck it up, inhale it, and memorize it to revel in it at a later date. He searches my eyes, trying to find reassurance for himself, a proof of me trusting and believing in him, any sign of me still wanting his promise of forever, still wanting his love.

I don't know if I can give him that, but I try.

When I finally let go of him, I walk towards the security control and throw one last look over my shoulder. Edward stands there in all his glory, a bittersweet expression on his face.

I make a promise to my unborn child. A promise to always be there for him, to never let him down, to always make sure he will have all the love and care a child can possibly receive. I promise to give his daddy a chance—a chance to make things right, to live up to his promises, to find a way to make this work. After all, with all his flaws and weaknesses and shortcomings, Edward is my baby's father. No matter if me and him have a future together as a couple, as a 'Forever', a Happily Ever After.

He is and will always be so much more than just a fling.

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End file.
